Silence Apart
by Burnout Black
Summary: He speaks. She listens. Stories of an eternal and fatal love between a young, ruthless assassin and a pale, loveless woman. Part Three: She is gone. Without her, he is lost. KxT
1. Beauty

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin or The Scientist by Coldplay. Refer to the Author's Notes below the story for all appropriate credits and musings.

**Silence Apart**

_I. Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry_

There is beauty in heartbreak. Beauty in everything she does, beauty.

He feigns sleep in her presence, his sword resting comfortable and cool by his side. There is beauty in the way she rearranges the wilting flowers in the room, flowers he bought for her on a whim. There is beauty in the way she moves around the small room, tidying up a stack of dusty books here and examining a painting there. There is a beauty in her midnight eyes and inky hair. Elusive.

Something is changing, slowly, but he can't quite grasp it.

The soft padding of her feet on the wooden floor is strangely soothing in the way that the steady thrumming of a heartbeat would be to an infant. He shifts closer to it, unconsciously and consciously seeking it. It is a lifeline, a steady stream of breath in a life where there is only bloodshed and war.

She throws open the windows, letting the sun play upon his skin. The warmth seeps in, slowly at first, and then invades him until the numbness fades away in her presence and her sun. He murmurs softly, words that don't make sense, but she looks at him all the same with a light to her eyes that hasn't been there for years. He is broken, but he is healing. She mends him, picks up the tiny pieces and glues them together with her quiet words and soothing motions.

When he opens his eyes and lets her see him, healing and still confused, he lets her know that she is his savior, his sheath.

Dawn breaks, and they will be there to see the sun rise together.

* * *

Author's Notes: I've always adored Tomoe and Kenshin together. They have a poignant and tragic relationship, one that is deep on so many levels and complex in understanding. Having debated with this idea for a while, I finally settled for writing a series of loosely connected one-shots dedicated to their eternal love. Coldplay's The Scientist, I think, contains the proper undertones for the pair. The music video in particular, is rather appropriate. Reviews are greatly appreciated. 


	2. Heartbeat

Disclaimer: As with the previous disclaimer, I do not own anything aside from these words I write. Author's notes are, as usual, located beneath the story.

**Silence Apart**

_II. You don't know how lovely you are_

There is blood, she registers dimly in the corner of her mind. There is blood and it is slipping and sliding between her fingers as easily as water used to wash away the stains of the past. She brings a pale hand to the surface of that crimson liquid, delicately absorbing the smooth and rippling feel of it underneath her, around her, surrounding her.

There is blood in his amber eyes, blood in his wayward strands of hair, blood embedded in his skin as he touches her ever so carefully by the light of the flickering candle. This is wrong, she murmurs to herself in the near darkness. This is wrong in so many ways, but she is all past caring now. Perhaps she has simply never cared to begin with. She runs her fingers through his unbound hair, burying her face into the crook of his neck, unable to face those eyes without being torn apart inside from guilt.

It is only in the darkness that she allows her heart to beat again, slowly and painfully.

There are days when she wishes her heart to stop thudding from the confines of her chest, days when she wants nothing more than to inflict some semblance of pain on him to remind herself of her true purpose. But the days do not come, even as she gazes into a pair of rapidly softening amber eyes. She can break him, she knows. He knows. But he gives her his heart nonetheless, trusting her with the only part of him left.

She can feel herself breaking underneath the burden of a promise to herself and a tainted affection for him.

"_I will be your sheath."_

In the darkness with her slender fingers trembling as they trace his face and then the sharp angles of muscle and bone, she allows herself to fall into damnation. In the darkness with his hesitant hands, strong enough to kill and yet soft enough to smooth away her fears, he enfolds her into his tight embrace.

They are heartbreakingly beautiful together. Pale limbs intertwining as fiery locks of hair mingle with obsidian strands. She knows this will not last forever. He knows this as well.

"_Tomoe." _He breathes softly into the night and she knows her promise has been broken, shattered into too many small pieces to ever glue back together again. She knows, and she no longer cares.

There is blood, and she is drowning in it.

This time, she does not want to be saved.

* * *

Author's Notes: This was originally supposed to be an almost sweet moment between them, but I'm afraid I turned it into something bittersweet instead. For any curious readers out there, Silence Apart will probably turn out to be closer to thirty drabbles long rather than the intended twenty. I also finally realized I'd disabled Anonymous reviewing, and have enabled it now. My apologies to all anonymous readers for that careless move on my part. Please drop a comment if you have the time to do so; it really does wonders to motivate me. 


	3. Run

**Disclaimer:** Same as the previous chapters. I apologize for the lack of witty and innovative ways to say, "I don't own RK" upon my part. See below for my Author's Note.

**Silence Apart**

_III. I had to find you, tell you I need you, tell you I set you apart_

He is running faster than he has ever dared to run before. The wind sends his hair furiously whipping the back of his neck and the sides of his face, but he can care less. He has learned to disregard physical comfort, not that he really understands what physical comfort is to begin with. But he was _learning_ to feel comfortable as a student under her careful ministrations and now she is gone. He grits his teeth as he stays in the shadows of the looming buildings, clay smearing his face from where a dying man's hand carved out a single mark of defiance on his previously unmarred skin. He knows he is risking the entire safety of his mission with this careless action, but he is all past thinking rationally now.

Yukishiro Tomoe.

The woman who entered his life on a night of blood and survived the encounter. He didn't (and still does not) understand what to do with her. She is quiet, respectful, and yet subtly defiant and proud in her own way. She does not shy away from him when he comes back late at night with blood stains soaking through his uniform and _skin_. He is sure that she must hate him for chaining her to him, for sparing her when she so obviously wished to die before, but she shows no hint of abhorrence towards him. He wonders how someone as delicate and graceful as her can put up with his beastly nature. It isn't pity, he knows. For she is as capable of pity for him as he is capable of walking away from the war.

She confuses him, and he is finding the urge to know her becoming stronger and stronger. She washes his clothing, waits up for him while he is out late slaughtering nameless enemies in the darkness, and cares for him in the simplest way that she can. He does not know what she expects as repayment for her actions, for he has nothing to offer that she would want.

She has been gone for far too long. The men had said that she left to fetch fresh vegetables and meat from the market for tomorrow's celebration early afternoon. But it is near midnight and she has yet to reappear. He knows she did not desert, because the thought of her finding his presence that intolerable is far too unsettling for him to even consider. She is gone and he will find her and bring her back to his…no, their home.

The scent of plum blossoms wafts through the clearing clearly, cutting through the stench of alcohol, unwashed bodies, and the slightest tang of blood (present no matter where he goes, he wonders if the smell of blood is coming from him—permanent as the scar on his cheek). He follows it urgently and the grip on his sword tightens with anticipation for murder.

She is by the river, solitary with a basket of produce resting on the bank. Her hands are submerged deep into the water and her head is tilted downwards, eyes gazing blankly at the stream as it easily navigates around her fingers. It is a full moon tonight and she shines, luminescent underneath its rays. He does not know whether he should approach her not. She is so pure and untainted with her white hands cupped full of clear water that it is a wonder he has not tainted her just by watching her. He turns to leave, sure that she will return sometime later unharmed, but she stands and turns to face him.

"I'm sorry," She murmurs, black eyes glowing as she pins her gaze on him. He feels oddly dissected underneath her knowing irises, as if she understands all of him. But it is not an uncomfortable feeling. "I must have worried everyone."

He says nothing, walking over to pick up the basket. As he brushes past her, he feels the insane urge to run scalding water over his body until he is cleansed of that ever lingering and metallic scent of blood. He thinks that he should stop tainting her presence so, but he is neither brave enough nor self-sacrificing enough to do so. He is only human after all.

Only human.

It is not until they are close to their makeshift and rickrack home that he musters up the courage to speak. "You worried me," he admits quietly, pushing his anxiety away. There is nothing to be afraid of here. She does not have the means to kill him nor does she have the will to, he is sure. She can only occupy his thoughts and twist the ways with which he looks at the world.

_But_, a part of him whispers, _isn't that the most dangerous of all?_

* * *

Author's Note: This was also intended to be sweet, but I think it comes off more as pensive and hesitant if anything else. They really have a terribly tragic relationship, which makes it all the more difficult for me to write happy scenes between them. I'll try to do better next time because I find that stories with an overwhelming element of sadness tend to lose their charm as time goes on. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (especially you, misaoshiru. Your review made me laugh and I sincerely hope you would prefer to marry me rather than kill me!) Once again, drop a comment if you have the time. 


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